Category: really old

Food and love do not always go hand in hand.

The worst part is that my ego has no basis in reality. Well, not the Queen’s reality, anyway. But who cares about that?

We each make up our own story. Some of us just tell ours better.

Cars and people.
People let their cars go to their head.
People use their cars as a crutch in a social situation.

I even find myself wanting a cool car. I just do. Darnit.

bop she bops.
oh how she bops.
and she rolls.
she rolls her eyes when you walk up and tell her your name. she glares at you and her eyes ask you why you deserve any attention from her at all. And you smile and you laugh, and you reach up and grasp her earlobe between your thumb and your forefinger, and you caress it lightly and roll it between your fingers.

And she pauses and she holds her half-smile for a moment too long and you know that you have gained her attention.

Now the battle begins.
And she slaps your hand away, and she laughs and she darts away into the smokey room, glancing back once, twice and then gone.

More parties.
Playing music for the people that made high school what it was.
Watching beautiful girls do silly things.

Listening to hard-ass drum n bass. Bone-Chill Grooves.
San Diego girl makes another appearance.
Close encounter with a blonde cutie.

Life goes on.

I am lonely.
I fear I will be lonely forever.
I am not lonely because I don’t have people
around me. I am lonely because I know I am not like most people I see.

I don’t understand why people do what they do. I don’t understand why they don’t care the way I do.

And even more, I feel that I may be wrong.

I looked at an industrial spot today. It’s 14,000 sq ft! That’s huge.
And it’s pretty cheap. Expensive for some place to live, but it’s so big. You could do so much with that sort of space. You could easilly run several businesses from it. And that’s just what I’d like to do.

I’m a man of opportunity. I know my game. I know my opponent.

And I know what I must do next.

Heroin and crack.
Nicotine and Jack.
Don’t put your finger up my butt.
Unless I’m in a major rut.

And even then, be gentle.

Everything in America is about money.

No matter how you cut it or how much you try to forget it.

You can suck nitrous balloons all your life or fill your veins full of heroin or peanut butter or whatever, and nothing is going to change.

It’s all about dollars, cash, money.
Money is all most people think about. They worry about paying for this or that. They want to make their millions so they can drive their fancy cars and fuck their fancy women. They want to wear the nicest clothes and be seen in the ritziest places and they’ll do just about anything they can to make that happen.

It’s more addictive than any other thing on our planet. Once you have a little more than a little, you will always want more.

And more.

And it goes on. And there’s nothing you or anyone else can do about it.

I have been struggling to get these frickin frontpage extensions working with the dreamhost system for so long, and I am almost there! I’ve almost got it! I just need to try a couple more things and I’ll have it!

Glory day.

And many of you have returned my survey already! Thanks for not just tossing it away.